Re part 1 - Redemption
by BlackFrostWarrior
Summary: The team attempts to come to terms with the death of Kid Flash, Nightwing's absence and Kaldur's sudden return when one of them is struck by a mysterious illness which could cost him his life. Rated T in case certain aspects of the story are darker than I realize. No slash or pairing.
1. Prologue

**_A/N: this story is set after the end of Young Justice. The author would like to say that they have never read the comics and have no knowledge of them. Because of this, the author assumes this story takes place in an alternate universe. Additionally, the author is fully aware that they are completely ignoring the foreshadowing of the final episode of Young Justice. The author would like to state that they do not care. They would also like to point out that this story is written entirely for the author's enjoyment, and published for the entertainment of the reader. The author is aware that many aspects of the story are... less than perfectly written. The author has a file on their computer detailing the many things wrong with the story. Feel free to add to the list in a review._**

_Gotham City_

_July 4__th__, 12:00 PM_

The relief Nightwing felt as he left the Watchtower behind was so profound that it had an almost dizzying physical impact. It seemed as though his entire life was nothing short of a series of catastrophes of which he was the pivot point that invariably spun completely out of control and culminated in the death of those closest to him.

Leaving all of it behind him, just walking away, knowing that the team was in good hands and didn't need him, was like the weight of the world suddenly lifting from his very tired shoulders. For him, it had been much longer than the few months of the Reach invasion. It been longer even than sending Kaldur undercover with Black Manta. Longer than he'd been Nightwing. Longer than there had been the team. Heck, it was longer than he'd been Robin.

The trail of misery had followed him from the circus into which he'd been born, to Gotham City, and from there to Mount Justice, shadowing his every move and haunting his every word.

It had not, as it finally turned out, been more than he could bear. But he had bitten off more than he could chew, and chewed more than he could swallow. The things he had done, and been willing to do, now returned to him to criticize and wear him down, reminding him of all the times he had failed, as well as the times he should have failed or could, because of his decisions, have failed.

He lay down on the hotel bed, not even bothering to remove his mask. Exhaustion that had clung to him for weeks, adding its bulk to that of his uncertainty, now flattened him. He let it, knowing that at last no one would suffer for his weakness.

He had known for a long time that he was going to leave the team, at least for awhile, as soon as the crisis was over. As soon as he could pass the responsibility on to someone stronger, and better than he.

The death of Wally West had merely hastened his need for departure.

He finally allowed himself to feel all the things he'd been holding back since this all started.

The feeling of being hit in the gut when he discovered that, because of his deception, Miss Martian had destroyed Aqualad's mind. His weakness preventing him from foreseeing the unwilling betrayal of Blue Beetle. His own distrustful nature forcing him to keep secrets from his team, thus putting his dearest friends in the worst danger of their lives.

Nightwing's training had instilled in him a darkness which he could not rid himself of. A willingness to sacrifice everyone he cared about for the sake of the mission. He could order others not to jeopardize the team, hold them accountable when their actions brought about failure. But he could not seem to stop himself from looking at any problem with a torrential flood of logic, which blocked out his ability to think or even feel. It was like he had an 'off' switch.

He understood willingness to kill the enemy, and the capacity to make rookie mistakes. He could find it within him to forgive others for almost anything, even the villains who would kill him if they could. But what he did not understand was his own willingness to kill his friends, to destroy all who surrounded him, simply to get the job done. And he could never forgive himself for the things he had done.

What he had done to Aqualad in asking him to pretend to turn traitor, then betray his own father. To Artemis, in asking her to become Tigress so that she might stand at Aqualad's side. To Miss Martian, for not telling her that Artemis was still alive. To Superboy, for not trusting him with the truth. But most of all, to Kid Flash. Asking him to give up Artemis, dragging him back into the life he'd tried so hard to leave behind. Nightwing had killed him, as if he'd done it with his own hands. The blood was on his conscience and no other, not even those who had caused the crisis.

Nightwing felt suddenly cold. So desperately cold that he shivered. The cold was not from the air, but from within. His insides seemed to be recoiling on themselves, leaving an icy hollowness inside. If someone had come right then and tried to kill him, Nightwing probably wouldn't even have moved.

Whether it was mercy or cruelty that this did not happen, Nightwing wasn't sure.

He rolled onto his side and curled up around himself, but his shaking did not subside. He didn't mind. It was the one thing that told his numbed mind that he was still alive.

Why couldn't any victory feel good?. Why was there a bitterness tainting every battle?. Even when the war was won, the air was heavy with regret. Those who gave their lives, or who otherwise destroyed themselves, who they were, the price paid for victory.

Zatanna's father, given over to Fate so that she might live. The Atlantean whom Aqualad loved. Miss Martian's mental innocence, ripped away in the pursuit of knowledge of the enemy. Green Beetle, Guardian, and so many others. Lives lost, or broken beyond repair. Artemis and Aqualad, scarred forever. Blue Beetle, free but changed for all time. There were too many to count. Faces leaped into his mind, racing away before he could even put names to them. Lost to fire, ice, bullet and gun, the end of their lives sometimes not even under their own sun.

Nightwing was not even granted the release of doubt, wondering whether it was worth the cost. His cold, logical mind assessed even the death of his best friend with an air of detachment and concluded, when the cost was counted up, the price that was paid was more than worth it.

Wally West, Kid Flash, had saved the Earth. His death was worth that price. Even had Flash and Impulse both died as well, it still would have been worth it. Even should the entire League perish, the cost would not be too high.

He was drawn to a memory, five years ago, of a simulation which had gone wrong. He had been willing to sacrifice all, had hardly grieved for those he thought dead, confident in the belief that new heroes would rise to fight the good fight, so even if all those that currently existed were killed, it would still have been a worthwhile sacrifice.

Nightwing wished he could have doubts about that. He wanted to ask "was it really worth it?", and not have his mind immediately answer the question with a resounding "yes".

Night drew its dark curtain over the window, but Nightwing did not rouse himself. For once, the night did not speak to him, did not urge him outward. He was not Batman, he was not the night. He was just Nightwing, plain and simple and exhausted beyond words.

Slowly, his mind began to turn to jelly, turning things over and over and over, and getting nowhere faster than he could think. The mind he had used constantly for years, demanding more and more of it with each passing mission, ran itself in helpless circles, trying to find solutions to problems that didn't even exist other than in his mind.

He couldn't even rail that it wasn't right, or wasn't fair. They all knew the risks when they got involved and to say that the price they paid for the mission wasn't fair was an insult to the people he regarded with such affection and high esteem. Kid Flash had not died in vain and, even if he had, it was a sacrifice he had made willingly. To say it should not have been made was an insult to not only Kid Flash, but all that he had stood for.

Then, like a bird on silent wings, consciousness at last fled, and Nightwing felt himself drift into the darkness, the blessed emptiness of dreamless, silent sleep.


	2. Chapter 1

_Gotham City_

_July 10__th__, 6:45 AM_

Robin awoke to the sick feeling that suggested something bad would happen if he got up this morning. It was a sense all people were equipped with, but superheroes were acutely aware of it. Their 'danger' sense was finely tuned, sometimes a bit over-tuned even. It was going to be a rough day, of that he was certain. Knowing this, feeling the threat hanging over his head, Robin chose to remain in bed for a few precious minutes, steeling himself for the coming day.

Things had been quiet the last few days. So quiet, in fact, that Robin had spent the last several nights at home, in bed, asleep. Like all who took on secret identities in order to protect the world, Robin knew the peace could not last, and was enjoying it while he could. Heroes drew what little rest they could get in like a drowning man gasps for air. It was hardly surprising that most heroes didn't make it past their first decade, even if they survived that long.

Getting into the game was easy, getting your focus and training was hard. But the true test, the truest of them, was how long you kept running after hitting the ground. In a field which required split second decisions, with zero margin for error, it was hardly noteworthy that most caved after a short time. The strain, even for sidekicks or those working with a team, was enormous.

Robin sighed, knowing the peace of the dawn light was lost to him. He got up and shrugged into his 'casual' attire, quickly checking himself over to be sure he hadn't forgot anything. His utility belt, which was always in arm's reach, he slung over his shoulder, beneath his jacket so that it would be hidden. He looked around with sad disinterest at the trappings of his room, distant memory of who he had once been drifting slowly through the back of his mind. He shook his head.

A lifetime ago. Another world, another time, another person, lost forever to the tragedy which marked each and every hero, branding them for life and setting them apart from all others.

His breakfast reminded him of how truly different he was from other people. His fork, which he had once regarded as a mere eating implement, he held as if it were a dagger. His mind flew efficiently over the various ways someone could come upon him, try to take him by surprise. The fork, his nearest available weapon, could be used as an instrument of death if it came to that.

You could be attacked anywhere, at any time. And whatever you held in your hand was your best defense against attack. These were not paranoid, fearful or rampant thoughts, but mere background noise, the same sort of habit that leads most people to close a door after going through it, or to dry their hands after washing them.

To let the potential for combat become an obsession was a weakness in itself. It could drive you mad, or lead you to destroy your own friends. Paralyze you with fear, or simply send you over the edge until you found yourself attacking shadows just for being there.

Robin finished his breakfast in silence. He had not forgotten the sense of foreboding which had awakened him, and had been looking for its source with casual intensity, but he did not let the feeling overwhelm or control him. He acted in every way as if this were a perfectly ordinary day.

For him, it was.

_Bialya_

_July 10__th__, 9:25 PM_

The mission was simple recon. The League was picking up strange energy readings, and had asked Kaldur to send a team to check it out. The day had started roughly, as if the bad guys and natural disasters had detected the collective lull in their activities and decided to pick up the pace. Most of the Justice League were preoccupied with various duties. Besides, the junior members of the team could use some more field experience.

Beast Boy, Bumblebee and Blue Beetle, in addition to Robin, were assigned to the mission. Mercifully, it was Blue Beetle who was placed in charge, much to Robin's relief. He didn't relish the idea of being leader, he would rather follow when he could.

As they arrived, the feeling which had come to him this morning began to increase. The sense that something terrible was just around the corner nagged at him, growing stronger. Still he did not give voice to it, for two reasons. One, he did not wish to alarm the others. Two, he did not want to look like a paranoid fool if nothing happened. He had been at this awhile, but he felt that he didn't have the experience to tell the difference between a case of nerves and the real thing.

Robin felt awkward with the current team, painfully aware that he was not only alone without powers, but also the only member of the current team who lacked the power of flight. He was an inconvenience to them, as radio contact was not possible here and there was no telepathic link, they had to stay together. Robin could travel as swiftly as any of them, but not in the air.

Robin was not the only nervous party, he observed. Beast Boy was accustomed to working with Miss Martian, he was used to following her lead and answering to her words. Bumblebee had a partner of her own, whom she usually worked with these days. And Blue Beetle... well... Robin wasn't entirely convinced the Beetle was right in the head. But mostly, he seemed as uncomfortable in the leadership role as Robin typically felt.

There was a thread of tension running from one of them to the other. It was on simple missions that the team was most often truly tested. In times of crisis, they could pull together and do whatever must be done. With time to think, to form strategy and to question their orders, teams often degenerated into chaos. At least, so Robin had seen on more than one occasion.

As his eyes flicked from one team mate to another, he found himself wondering if he could depend on them. It seemed ridiculous to wonder such a thing, considering the crisis they had all just come through. But one crisis did not dissolve all conflict between individuals. These were new members of the team, whose true worth had not yet been put to the test.

Robin found himself wondering if he would ever, like Nightwing, have an inner circle whom he could trust implicitly and be completely loyal to without fear of betrayal. Would he someday have a group of friends like Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian and Kid Flash, as Nightwing did?. Or would he one day look about him and find himself like Arsenal, alone and unwanted, haunted by demons of his own making and unable to find a place among others of the human race?.

It was a complicated question, one which had no ready answer. Robin hated simple missions, because they always prompted reflection and questions, uncertainty and confusion.

Little did he know just how soon his reflection would be put to a swift and decisive halt.

Afterwords, Robin couldn't say for sure just whose minions had hit them, probably Queen Bee's drones. All he knew for sure was that they appeared suddenly, hit hard and there were lots of them.

"Oh, we're in trouble," Beast Boy cried, as he assumed one of his many animals forms.

Bumblebee, shrinking down, took flight and set to work zapping anyone who got too close. Blue Beetle took to the air, aiming down and shooting wide arcs of energy at the ground below.

Robin was startled to find himself as much cornered by his comrades' wild firing as he was by the enemy. A blast hit near him, and he hissed with irritation as he dodged. Blue Beetle seemed to have forgotten that he was team leader, firing on the enemy and hovering as though he were expecting someone to issue out orders.

This battle was pointless, there was nothing to be gained, Robin could see that. The enemy was many, and there was nothing to be won even should victory in battle be achieved. He opened his mouth to say so, but closed it again. It was not his place to speak.

A white flash exploded at the side of his head and Robin ducked, blinking in the rising dust, wondering what the heck it was that had sailed past his head. Looking around sharply, he saw Blue Beetle fall from the sky, smoking trailing from one battered wing.

"Blue!," he called out the name, knowing the one word would draw the attention of his team mates, and they would no doubt close around their wounded.

He ran towards Blue Beetle, kneeling beside him. Blue was stunned only, and would recover in a moment. Robin resisted the urge to throw a smoke pellet so they could vanish into the dunes. Blue would be able to give orders in a few seconds, there was no call for Robin to take charge.

But when Blue opened his eyes, he seemed to be looking to Robin for some kind of answer. He sat up and looked around at the advancing enemies, staring blankly at Bumblebee and Beast Boy, who were just barely holding their own. Robin knew he should reenter the fray, unless they were going to retreat.

Blue gave no order, rising in silence from the ground and rejoining the fight wordlessly.

Robin hesitated to resume the battle. But it was not his place to suggest retreat.

"_No unnecessary risks to the team,"_ the old command from Nightwing rang in his head, reminding Robin of his first command. He tried to shake the memory off, but the echo reverberated within, insistent and repeating, an order which could not be denied.

He closed his eyes, a wave of dizziness passing over him without apparent reason. He opened his eyes, and found the team giving him glances, looking to him for answers. Even Blue. But they looked upon him with eyes did not see him as he was. They saw Robin, and remembered him to be the adopted brother to Nightwing. They sought in his eyes the confidence and experience of Nightwing.

That was something he could not give them.

But there was something he _could_ do.

He stood, fending off enemies with his staff, and pulling a handful of pellets from his utility belt. With a decisive snap of his wrist, he flung them to the ground. Exploding in black smoke, they were a wordless signal to the others that now was a good time to be retreating.

The team had done their job. There was activity here, entirely too much. But the mission was a failure, because they had not managed to locate the source of the energy spikes. Another day, another team. With their current team, on this day, there was no chance to learn more.

Robin knew that there was more to the game than winning battles. There was knowing when to make a tactical retreat, as well as when and how to move your people in order to counter the enemy. A vast game of chess, this was. Nightwing was a master at it, Robin merely a pawn being forced to act as king in this situation. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

_Watchtower_

_July 10__th__, 02:34 PM_

It was Blue Beetle who gave the report to Kaldur. Shame-faced, he admitted to freezing up in the middle of the battle, losing his cool and neglecting his duties as leader. He pointed to Robin as the reason for their escape from the skirmish in one piece.

"Well done," Kaldur had said to him, then dismissed them all aside from Blue.

Robin was appreciative of those two words, more than he would have believed. They confirmed within him that he had done the right thing, which allowed him to shed some of the doubt he felt. But it did nothing for the sense of slow creeping dread that had yet to release him from its clutches.

The team had dispersed, and Robin now stood alone, gazing out a window at the untamed universe that was the stars. Such simple, innocent looking things, those stars. Yet most of them were host to a thousand species, living out their lives in ways sometimes similar to humans, sometimes so terrible and strange as to be incomprehensible to the human mind.

Looking at them made him feel insignificant, yet all-important. His perception put him at the center of the universe, with space itself revolving around him. Yet at the same time, he was so incredibly microscopic in the grand scheme of things as to hardly matter at all.

There was a brief crackle of activity at the edge of his vision, like static on the radio. It was there and gone so quickly that he believed he must have imagined it. But that flash was enough to make him feel still more uneasy. He left the window, unable to bear looking out any longer.

He tried to get a handle on the feeling. The threat did not seem imminent, more like a future one. He'd had the feeling all morning, but it was vague and unhelpful at best. A generalized warning that told him to be on the alert, to pay attention.

The feeling had been added to by another, completely different fear. He could not put out of his mind the looks on Beast Boy, Bumblebee and Blue Beetle's faces as each of them looked to him for answers.

It had not escaped his notice that everyone looked at him and spoke to him with a certain deference, as if he were something special. No, as if he had somehow already proven himself. As if he were not merely Robin, but Nightwing or even Batman himself. The mask and name itself forced him to be associated with two people, two great heroes, neither of whom he was at all like.

_Gotham City_

_July 11__th__, 12:30 AM_

Nightwing's fist struck the jaw of his opponent harder than he'd intended. The would-be burglar crumpled to the ground, the valuables in the sack over his shoulder spilling out and clanking to the pavement with a discordant crash.

It had not been long that Nightwing had fantasized about leaving the life behind. About putting away the mask. How had Wally and Artemis done it?. And why had he interfered with that?.

He stood over the sagging body of the petty criminal, his mind slowly burning with the questions which plagued him no matter where he went, or what he did. His only relief was in doing that which he was trained to do, the only thing he knew how to do.

Had he known that donning the mask would consume him, destroy his "true" identity for all time, he might have thought twice. Then again, he'd been nine, how could he possibly have known just what it was that he was giving up in becoming Robin and, later, Nightwing?.

_I want to die._

The thought, articulated clearly in his mind for the first time, seemed to have a force of its own, enough to almost knock him down. He fled to the shadows of Gotham, leaving the criminal for the approaching police sirens.

He was surprised by his own thought, though not especially repelled by it. This was not the first time he'd thought it. When he'd lost his family, and a thousand times since, he had longed for the deadly embrace of distant oblivion. What surprised him was that it returned now, instead of the instant of Wally's death, or the second he stepped down from command, or the moment he closed the door to his room and found himself alone without care. Now seemed an odd time.

The distant sirens and flashing lights whose authority he refused to recognize told him that he was safe. That he had not stayed to be captured for being a vigilante, that he had gone out and defeated 'evil' (if one could call it that), said that he had every intention of surviving. He would not kill himself, but in his doubt, others might find an opening and do it for him.

Meanwhile, Robin had been placed in official command of his first team since the departure of Nightwing. It seemed the Riddler had broken loose of his incarceration and gone on a romping rampage through Happy Harbor, near the old residence of the team.

The reason Robin was placed in charge was because he had the most experience when it came to Riddler and his flunkies. Or so he was told. But the Riddler, to the best of Robin's knowledge, was not an especially complex or even terribly feared villain. Anyone could handle him, especially as he hadn't deigned to team up with any of the other usual villains. Working on his own, he was something of a bad joke.

Figuring out what he was doing and putting a stop to it didn't take long, which came as a relief to Robin. The less time he spent in charge, the better. It wasn't that the responsibility didn't agree with him. It was that the looks from the team didn't. They looked to him as they had once looked to Nightwing, expecting him to materialize solutions out of thin air as the previous Robin had.

"Well done, Robin," Kaldur told him afterwords.

Robin waited for more than that, an explanation of what he had done well, or what he might have done better. But there was none forthcoming, and he came away from the meeting a bit discouraged. Kaldur had spoken as though they were equals, as he might to Nightwing. Robin was a junior member of the team, with more experience than most of the others yes, but still junior.

He had much to learn about being on the team, though there was little left for him to discover as a sidekick. But it seemed unlikely that anyone was going to teach him now that Nightwing was gone.

**A/N: Part 1 is actually complete, I just haven't uploaded all the chapters yet. I'll be adding them over the next week or so. Also, there is written parts 2-5. There is no cliff hanger in part 5, though it isn't truly the end of the story. The author has not finished telling the story yet, and has no idea when it will be fully complete.**


	3. Chapter 2

_Metropolis_

_July 15__th__, 01:02 PM_

One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four. That was all the time for thought Robin had before the behemoth slammed into him with two tons of brute force. This was much less than four seconds, because Robin's heart was racing to keep pace with the turn of events that had led here.

With Superman preoccupied on the surface with a villain of his own, it had been given to the team to investigate a series of disappearances in a poor section of the city. It had led to an underground compound, the designer of which was still unknown. Within its walls, they had found themselves beset on all sides by mutant monsters of various shapes and sizes, not to mention colors and smells too.

The first attack came from a feline-like beast, who snatched at the nearest member of the team with wicked, tine-like claws. Wonder Girl ducked and took the hit with her bracelets, but was driven to her knees by the creature's strength and weight.

Even as Robin was struck from behind, his mind had already flipped into overdrive, taking into consideration the disappearance of people and the presence of these monsters, wondering if they could be one and the same, and who it was that could have done it. At the same time, his brain recalled the incident not long ago, when it had been in their interest to flee. His call to make.

But no, not yet. To run at the slightest sign of resistance was not in their mission. This wasn't a mission based off of simple curiosity and casual concern as the last one had been. Human lives were known to be at stake. The missing must be found, or some clue as to their whereabouts must be located at least.

Robin's head struck against the wall, and bells rang in his ears as air was crushed from his lungs. Even with the distraction, his mind turned to the problem at hand, and he grabbed from his belt the first thing that came to mind – a smoke pellet. Not enough to disappear, but enough to make the monster cough and perhaps give him an inch of space to work with. It was all he would need to defend himself.

Instead of throwing the pellet to the floor, he cracked it and threw it over his shoulder, aiming for what he hoped was the beast's face, not that he could see it. A roar accompanied a rush as air came back into Robin's lungs. He twisted, striking out with one boot as he returned to the ground, crouching low in order to assess the situation in relative safety.

The behemoth who had hit him didn't seem to have its roots in anything in particular, it was simply big, gray, misshapen and ill-formed, all bulk and very little else. Even as it recovered from the effects of the smoke, it stumbled about, swinging its massive head in blind aggression. Robin cocked his head, taking note of the creature's behavior. It was not intelligent. He could use that against it.

Dodging a wild blow from his adversary, Robin took the time to look around as he jumped to a safer distance. The behavior of the others was much the same as this creature. They were incredibly powerful, but mentally very limited. Their weakness, his advantage.

"Their reaction time is slow," Robin said "use that,"

Wonder Girl, nearest to him, nodded. The others did not take the time to acknowledge, turning their whole focus towards the enemy, taking their adversaries out with the benefit of this new information.

Robin dispatched his own swiftly, using his grappler to draw a line in front of the creature's legs, tripping it and then tying it down quickly. It roared and bellowed, but was stuck fast.

"What are they?," Wonder Girl panted, looking past Robin at the pile of creatures.

Robin realized she was looking at him. And so were the others. He started to open his mouth and say the things he'd been thinking during the fight, but his brain froze up. Perhaps it was better not to theorize just yet. To jump to conclusions too soon could very well be their downfall.

"I don't know," he said "but we'll find out soon enough, I'm sure,"

He hoped that was enough. Was it the sort of answer Nightwing would give?.

"Let's keep going," he ordered, then added "Kid Flash, you're on point, but don't get too far ahead,"

Robin had never worked with the original Kid Flash, but the red and yellow uniform was still a reminder of one who'd been lost. At the same time, it sort of immortalized the original Kid Flash, made him the unkillable in that, even should you destroy the individual, there would always be another.

Robin watched Kid Flash disappear, and observed in silence the others following at a distance, until he was standing alone among their felled enemies.

Did those who knew Kid Flash, the original Kid Flash, look at this new Kid Flash in the same way as they looked at him?. Possibly, but it hardly compared, he realized reluctantly. Kid Flash was a speedster, a courageous one, but not particularly a leader, despite the fact that he was something of a scientific genius. The new one was faster, but all in all not so very different. Perhaps more impulsive than the last, but then he was younger.

Robin shook himself.

_Focus, you idiot. You'll get everybody killed if you don't get your head in the game._

He hurried to catch up with the others, shaking off his self-pity as he did so.

* * *

Half an hour later, the team climbed their way back to street level, discouraged and slightly annoyed. There had been no traces of whoever had done this, though Robin had found computer records to support his theory of people turned monster.

Now he reported back what he knew to the Watchtower.

"_We'll send someone to pick up your captives," _Kaldur's voice said over the radio _"hold position until transport arrives,"_

"Understood,"

Relief flooded through Robin as the weight of responsibility was lifted. Granted, he was still in charge, but he had orders now, and they were simple ones. Stand guard. Make sure the creatures stayed captive and nobody came to claim them. No questioning what the right move was, what orders he should issue out. Nobody looking to him for answers.

But in the back of his mind, alarms were ringing. This wasn't the end of it, the creatures or his problems. A faint flicker of white flashed across his mind's eye, and he wondered what it meant.

He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, found his team still standing with him.

"You heard the man," Robin snapped "Kid Flash, you stay up here and wait for whoever's coming. Let them know where we are,"

"Shouldn't we move the creatures up here?," Wonder Girl asked.

"And risk letting them loose?. I don't think so," Robin replied "best wait for whoever they're sending. Very likely Miss Martian," at Wonder Girl's dubious look, he added "telekinetic powers. She can move the creatures without risk of unleashing them on the city by accident,"

Wonder Girl's eyes narrowed, and Robin realized she thought he was talking about her accident prone tendencies specifically. He opened his mouth to explain but realized that doing so would make it look like he _had_ meant her, but did not want to hurt her feelings.

There was no right answer here. He shouldn't have said anything at all.

Maybe this was why Nightwing so rarely explained things to his team, simply giving his orders and expecting them to be obeyed, letting the others draw their own conclusions.

* * *

_Paraguay_

_July 19__th__, 03:06 AM_

Scattered reports were coming in worldwide of missing persons and mutated beasts. Teams had been sent to a number of locations, Robin's was just one of many, this one sent to the jungles of Paraguay, where most of the residents of a little known village had simply vanished. Two survivors had been found, children screaming that their parents were monsters.

The team consisted of Robin, Kid Flash, Beast Boy and Wonder Girl, who was evidently still angry with him and had refused to speak to him on several occasions, now only speaking because it was required that they communicate for the mission.

They approached the location of the village under cover of darkness, Beast Boy taking point as a bat. Kid Flash wanted to take point, but Robin pointed out that this would be foolish. He had greater speed, yes, but not maneuverability. He did not know the terrain well, and could not see in the darkness. Kid Flash sulked, but conceded his leader's point, however reluctantly.

They found the village much like the compound in Metropolis, full of blundering monsters. There was an abandoned facility nearby, but there was nothing more interesting there than had been found at the other place. Frustrated, Robin sent this report to the Watchtower.

"Hey, look at this," Kid Flash clicked on a laptop in the corner of the room they stood in.

Robin took one look at the emblem on its screen and frowned.

"Correction: I believe we may know who's doing this,"

"The Light," Kid Flash said.

"_It was only a matter of time," _Batgirl was minding the team's part of the tower while Kaldur and Lagoon Boy checked out a threat in the South Pacific _"pack it up and get back to the tower,"_

"Understood," Robin turned to the team "break out the containment pods. We're bringing this bunch home with us,"

Wonder Girl flashed him a glare, reminding him of his orders last time they had captured a group. With the equipment and information they had at the time, Robin still held that he'd made the right decision, and Kaldur had not told him otherwise. But it was clear that Wonder Girl did not agree with him.

* * *

_Malaysia_

_July 21__st__, 09:23 PM_

The weather just outside of Kudat was very different from that of Paraguay. It was much warmer, and there was also that sense of being on the other side of the world. Robin wondered if everyone felt that, or if it was just him. The sensation of being on the opposite side of the world from where he had been mere days ago. It was still dark (well, dark again, he supposed), only now it was after evening instead of predawn.

Robin liked it better. A long time before it would be light again, plenty of darkness left. There was a certain feeling of security in the darkness for Robin, though he noticed his team mates lacked that confidence. He supposed it came from being the sidekick of Batman.

It almost, not quite but almost, made up for the insecurity he felt being team leader yet again. But at least Wonder Girl wasn't with them this time. She was off with Wonder Woman, on a mission of their own, unrelated to this one.

Several Leaguers, and team members, were staying out of the field, working on the problem of people turned monster. So far, they had found nothing resembling a cure, yet maintained the hope that there was one. If there was not, the only answer would be to kill them. It was a reality nobody wanted to face. They were defenders, not destroyers. But the monsters were simply too dangerous, and too numerous, to keep confined indefinitely. Cure or kill, those were the options.

Robin was glad that particular monkey, at least, was not on his back.

Again the team was disappointed, finding a facility empty of all personnel, with only rampaging mutants barging around, attacking anything that moved.

Once they had things under control, it was Static who observed

"It's like we're just a little too late. Left alone, these people would destroy themselves,"

Robin saw the truth of the statement. The creatures attacked one another as eagerly as the team itself. The only answer was that they were kept contained until moments before the team's arrival. An hour at the outside. Once the mission was over and they were back at the Watchtower, Robin relayed his suspicions to Kaldur, who nodded thoughtfully.

"What do you recommend we do about it?," Kaldur asked.

"Do?," Robin's mind raced ahead of his mouth, clicking on the answer before he knew it.

They knew The Light had something to do with it, but no idea what they were planning. More important, they had no idea how to cure the people they had captured. What they needed were solid answers, which they were not getting with the computers.

"The next mission should be covert," Robin said, and Kaldur looked approving "to capture someone, a scientist if at all possible,"

"Assemble a team. You leave in eight hours,"

"Where?," Robin wanted to ask a host of other questions too, but none of them were relevant to the mission, and so he didn't ask them.

"A town in southern Texas known as Archfield. No teams have been near there and, though it has not yet been reported on the news, there are sources who say people have gone missing from there,"

"Who do I take with me?," Robin asked.

"That, Robin, is up to you. Choose your team wisely,"

Eight hours. Eight miserable hours to think about the assignment he had inadvertently given himself. Who should he take with him?. His first impulse was to bring friends, those with whom he had established some kind of rapport. His second was to ask senior members, but he realized this would be a mistake. He would find himself looking to them, when it was he who had been placed in charge.

Wandering the Watchtower aimlessly, Robin observed members of the team, as well as the Justice League, go briskly about their business, each with somewhere to go and something to do, knowing exactly what it was they wished to accomplish, with the confidence of a thousand missions carrying them forward. They had all learned from success and failure, were both leaders and followers and each equally valuable in their own right.

Robin found himself in one of the kitchen areas. Here he found Megan baking, Conner looking on and absently petting Wolf with his left hand. Over at the table, Garfield and Bart were engaged in a card game that looked vaguely like poker. In the far corner, Zatanna was studying a book of some kind, a look of intense concentration on her face. Somehow, even to Robin, it looked absurd to see people in full superhero costume taking part in normal everyday activities.

He shrugged and moved on, finding a window sill to sit on and look out at the Earth below, his mind fully focused on the problem at hand. Some people weren't available, he knew, so he scratched them off the list. Who would be of most value to him?. Why hadn't Kaldur simply chosen the team as he usually did?. Was this some kind of test?. Or did he expect Robin to know who he needed to take with him?.

Robin uncomfortably suspected the latter. Kaldur, many others, seemed to overestimate what Robin could and could not accomplish.


	4. Chapter 3

_Archfield, Texas_

_July 21__st__, 06:30 PM_

Two hours of light left. More than Robin wanted. He supposed he could have asked to wait a bit longer, and Kaldur would very likely have listened. But he was not in the habit of requesting a change of orders. He was used to serving under Batman, who had a precise reason for every action he took and every order he issued. Though Robin had very little experience with Kaldur, he had seen in the Atlantean the same tendency towards being cagey with information, and also taking the best action possible based on available intel.

If Kaldur said 'go now', who was Robin to question that?.

In the end, Robin had chosen who he hoped would prove to be of the most use. Beast Boy, who could travel unnoticed virtually anywhere, thanks to a plethora of animal forms at his disposal. Blue Beetle, a heavy hitter, but also fairly sensible and cool-headed (usually). Bumblebee, whose scientific knowledge as well as her size-shifting abilities might be invaluable to the mission at hand.

Robin had informed Kaldur of his choices so that, when the time came, it was Kaldur who called the team and gave them their mission. If Robin had any luck at all, if anyone asked why they weren't being sent, Kaldur's answer would not be "because Robin didn't choose to take you with him".

That would be the last thing he needed. His relationship with Wonder Girl was already strained, and this could easily break it apart. And he didn't want to lose her. Not now, not like this.

"We're two miles outside of town," Robin told them "but readings indicate that there is a building just half a mile that way. Farther from town,"

"Middle of nowhere," Blue observed.

"Good place to hide something," Bumblebee put in.

"Which is why that's where we're headed," Robin told them "Beast Boy, scout ahead. Keep a low profile. If you see anything, get back here asap. No radio, we're doing this the old-fashioned way,"

Robin looked around and spotted a thicket and pointed the team towards it.

"We'll be waiting in there," Robin told Beast Boy "no risk taking, okay?. Just fly over, then come back, that's all,"

Robin had every intention of waiting in the thicket until nightfall if at all possible, but when Beast Boy returned, he was very flustered.

"There's a bunch of people," he said "but it looks like they're packing up to leave,"

"Then we better get what we came for, and fast,"

"What is that, by the way?," Bumblebee asked.

They had been told that this was another facility, like the ones they had been taking on for a week now. But it was clear to them that there was a hidden objective in the mission. Robin looked at her, but didn't immediately answer. Would it make a difference if the team knew?.

"Just askin'," Bumblebee said quickly "if we're gonna go, let's go,"

Robin nodded and the team set out, Beast Boy leading the way and pointing them around tripwires and hidden cameras. It was almost dark when they arrived, but not quite.

They approached the building from the East, where security seemed to be somewhat lax. Robin supposed that was because there was no door. Using his grappler, Robin entered through a window at the second floor. The others entered at various points as he had directed, with Beast Boy staying clear to provide cover should they need it upon leaving.

Robin had told them it was a fact finding mission. Bumblebee and Blue would no doubt be looking at computers for that. But Robin had a different objective. He felt as uneasy being secretive as he had about explaining everything in detail for the team. It seemed there was no right answer.

He found a control panel near a bunch of machinery he didn't recognize in the empty room. Plugging in, he soon located a building blue print. He downloaded it. There was a portion of the building that seemed to have extra guards and equipment, which was even now being removed from the site piece by piece.

Robin suddenly wished he hadn't split up the team. His hand went to his radio, but he remembered telling the team not to use it. It was possible that the radio had been what betrayed their presence on previous occasions. Of course, The Light was already evacuating, but if they were scanning for radio frequencies, then any transmission would help them locate intruders.

Robin sighed wearily. The situation was out of hand, and had been from the start. He could count off the mistakes he'd made up to this point, but did not take the time to do so.

Should he bypass the team altogether, radioing the Watchtower?. The machines still here might provide some much needed answers, but Robin had failed to bring with him enough firepower to secure it. Or should he keep acting on his own, complete the mission as planned?. Indecision gnawed at him as he spent a few precious seconds on the problem at hand.

He decided to complete the mission. There wasn't time for the League to arrive before the building would be empty, just like all the others.

The second decision was, it seemed, harder to make than the first. There were computers linked here with information that had not been at any of the other facilities. He could potentially download information that might prove valuable, simply by staying here. But that would take time, and his original objective would likely be gone before he finished. If he left his computer here to finish the download, he would be working without a map, using nothing but his memory.

It seemed unlikely that he could get from here to there undetected without a map to work with. Bumblebee's tiny size made her difficult to spot, and Blue's scarab had sensors which could detect hidden security devices. But Robin was on his own, and easy to spot.

The annoying flicker of light that had been plaguing him for days was mercifully absent, as if the warning it carried with it was not meant for this mission. Still, his every instinct was screaming at him that there was no right answer to this, at least, not an answer he could think of. No matter what he did, it would be wrong.

Alright, so he was wrong no matter what. What choices could he make that would not expose the team to unnecessary jeopardy?. To be caught would be to expose the team. But was that risk worth the potential reward of finally having somebody who knew what was going on, who could tell them how to cure the people who were even now suffering a fate worse than death?.

Even as he thought, Robin was absently searching through the computer files, downloading anything that looked like it might contain useful information. Why hadn't he told the team the plan?. Why hadn't he kept them together?. If they were here right now, he could send them after the scientist. He sighed.

Well, the others thought they were looking for facts. They'd be looking for them in computers. He'd just have to trust that they could download everything useful the computers had to offer while he completed the mission he'd come to accomplish. That made sense, right?.

_I hope this is worth it_, he thought.

It was the last thought he had for some time.


	5. Chapter 4

_Watchtower_

_July 22__nd__, 01:05 AM_

"What were you thinking?!," Kaldur was furious "your reckless actions got your entire team captured, you only escaped through sheer luck. On top of that, you failed in your mission, and did not manage to glean any useful information from the enemy whatsoever!. You made not one rookie mistake, but an entire list of them!,"

_I didn't ask for this!. _Robin mentally shouted, though he said nothing, and hoped his expression showed plainly the shame he felt. _You put me in charge, YOU sent me there!. I didn't ask for the stupid mission in the first place!._

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage to say, looking at the floor "it will never happen again,"

Robin had been discovered mere moments after making his decision. He had been knocked out, and come to an indeterminate amount of time later, to find himself captured along with the rest of his team aside from Beast Boy, who was undoubtedly hiding outside somewhere.

Escape had proven to be the easiest thing he'd done all day, but the battle which followed had left Bumblebee injured. Robin's computer had been destroyed when he was captured, and none of the others had managed to begin downloading information, which would have been stolen upon their discovery at any rate. They had gotten away with their lives, but nothing more.

"You are dismissed," Kaldur's voice was cold, his narrowed eyes glittered with barely suppressed rage.

Robin's choices had jeopardized the team from the outset. Poor choices had led inevitably to their capture and complete mission failure.

Robin wanted to crawl away and die, but he walked stiffly from the room, determined that he would show no more weakness than he already had. In the hallway, he was met by Wonder Girl.

"Why didn't you bring me with you?," She demanded "I could have helped!,"

Robin had taken all he could take. Emotionally, he had shut himself down, and found himself unable to comprehend Wonder Girl's anger. He was tired, he was bruised, and he was still bleeding from a cut on his forehead. He'd just endured one lecture, and felt unable to cope with another.

"Your presence," he said acidly "would have made no difference,"

It was true, but the way he said it was unfair. Wonder Girl's eyes were full of tears for a moment, but she squashed them down, replacing them with flaming rage. But instead of speaking further, she simply glared at Robin and stalked off, most likely to expend her anger on something that could take it.

Robin's wandering took him to the kitchen, which he was immensely grateful to find empty. He sank down against one of the counters, his legs too tired to hold him up anymore. The long day was fast catching up with him. But, more importantly, the weight of responsibility for the failed mission had crushed him, though only now was he feeling the full strain of it.

Blue Beetle, Bumblebee, Beast Boy... he could have gotten them all killed, himself as well. Or worse, they might have become monsters right along with the unfortunate souls whom they were trying to save.

_I didn't ask for this._ He thought again, but there was no conviction in it. Nobody asks to become what Robin and the others were. Nobody in their right mind, who knows what it is they're asking anyway. One does not become a hero on a whim, or simply because they suddenly decide they want to protect the innocent. But heroes take what gifts they are given, and use them for the benefit of others, rather than for themselves. Robin knew that what he wanted had very little to do with what he had become.

It was childish for him to pout about the unfairness of it all. That he was unable to be other than what he was was a gift, a curse, but mostly a responsibility which he could not turn his back on. He hadn't asked for it, but it was what he'd been given. He had put on the mask, and now he had to live with it.

It might be easier, he thought, if everyone would stop looking at him as though he were Nightwing. Kaldur might have made a different decision, had he not seen Nightwing in Robin's eyes. No, it was stupid to believe this was someone else's fault, to blame someone for his own stupid mistakes. What had happened was his own fault, no one else's. It had been his poor decisions that nearly killed them, beginning with the choice not to tell the others what the true objective was.

Robin struggled to get his feet under him. This was no time to be acting like a fool. He had a wounded team mate to check on, and a team to apologize to. But what could he say to them?. "Sorry I almost got us all killed?" what a hollow and meaningless apology that would be. But what else was there for him to say?. To the team, or to Wonder Girl?.

_Why?._ He mentally cried out in the empty and silent reaches of his mind. _Why me?._

It was a question he would ask time and again in the coming days.

* * *

_Gotham City_

_August 1__st__, 12:00 AM_

Robin woke suddenly, his eyes flashing open as he sat up, his breath coming in heaves and sweat pouring down his face. For a moment, he didn't know where he was, but as his vision cleared, he found that he recognized his own bedroom. He noted that he was still wearing his mask, he'd been so exhausted that he'd neglected to change out of costume.

He shifted his pillow and leaned back, his head still swimming from the nightmare which had driven him from what little restless sleep he'd had. The last mission had been long, he'd done a full three days without sleep, two without eating. He felt he'd earned more than three hours of sleep, but it seemed that was all he was going to get.

The searing nightmare images were still there, circling him in the dark, lurking as though waiting for him to turn on the light so that they could see him and leap upon him once more. They were black and indistinct, and only vague flashes remained in his memory. He had no idea what his dream was about, or even why it had been so terrifying. Glinting silver, polished metal, flicking through a curtain of velvet black, that's all it was. All he could remember.

Robin shivered, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around himself, mindful of a swollen bruise on his left side, just below where his elbow came to rest.

Three days of agonizing command decisions, with his mind wandering more and more all the time, that voice inside him screaming out that something very bad was coming. Nerves and eventual dehydration had made it virtually impossible to think clearly or objectively.

But it was more than that. This last mission had been his sixteenth in a row as team leader. He was sick to death of it. He was tired of the expectations of others, their looking to him as if he were God Himself, the One with all the answers. He was also tired of being chewed out for every failure and praised for each success without clarification as to why in either case.

But most of all, he was sick of what it was doing to his relationships with other members of the team. On missions, they looked to him for answers, but otherwise... it was as if he were a stranger to them. They no longer sought to speak to him as his friends, many were angry with his various decisions.

_Why me?. _He asked once again. _Why am I alone?._

* * *

_Watchtower_

_August 15__th__, 08:00 AM_

On his way to deliver a full report on his most recent mission, Robin was suddenly struck by a wave of vertigo so powerful that he staggered against the wall. His vision grayed, crackling with white electricity. He closed his eyes, stifling a moan as the pressure built in his head. The data chip he'd been holding clattered to the floor, and he wondered distantly if it were broken.

It was enough to make him open his eyes, but it seemed that there was six of everything, and it was all one color anyway, so he closed his eyes again, praying the feeling would pass.

It wasn't pain, not exactly. Just a tremendous pressure building up inside his head, until he felt like his brain would pop like a grape if it did not subside.

"Robin?. Are you okay?," The voice belonged to Superboy.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied "just took a few too many blows to the head. I'm a little dizzy,"

Steeling himself, he pushed off from the wall and opened his eyes. Skewed before him was the countenance of Superboy, his frowning mouth conveying a certain amount of concern, as if he could see that Robin was lying to him.

"Really, I'm good," Robin knelt to pick up the chip he'd dropped, hoping he'd be able to get it on the first try. His fingers found it and he picked it up with some relief.

A white flash blazed across his vision and he stood still for a moment, trying to blink it away.

"You don't look fine," Superboy said dubiously.

"Well I am," Robin insisted "but I won't be if I keep Kaldur waiting for my report much longer,"

Superboy looked as if he would say something further, then shrugged indifferently and continued on his way. At once, Robin sagged against the wall again, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

A few minutes later, it passed and he went on, giving his report to Kaldur.

"This suggests Luthorcorp may be at the heart of this particular operation," Kaldur said thoughtfully.

The comment was addressed to several members of the Justice League, who were standing around and studying the information on the chip just as Kaldur had.

"But suggest is all it does," Captain Atom pointed out.

"Very thin," Batman agreed.

"Misdirection, but to what end?," Superman asked, always ready to believe that Luthor was the root of all evil doings in the world.

"Typically, red herrings are designed to throw you off the scent," Batman said "to buy time,"

"Time for what?," Superman wanted to know.

"Unfortunately," Batman told him "we have very little information on the subject,"

"I am sorry," Kaldur volunteered "my teams have done what they can, but circumstances have-,"

"It's alright," Batman assured him gruffly "I'm sure you've done your best,"

"I have the feeling," Wonder Woman commented "that this is only the beginning of something much worse than what we've already seen,"

"Agreed," Batman said "but there's very little we can do with the information we have,"

Robin, who had been present for the meeting, looked silently at the floor. He had not forgotten his failure from before. It was his fault that they had so little information to work with. If he hadn't been so stupid, such a total rookie, they'd have a hard drive full of intel, and a scientist to help them figure out a cure, and reveal the secrets of his master. But, because of him, they had nothing of the kind.

Like a punch in the gut, the feeling of impending doom returned, filling his mind with fog.

* * *

Down on Earth, in the city of Gotham, a pair of dark eyes snapped open. Tigress had awakened. A furious, inarticulate growl escaped her as she arose and went to the window to look out at the morning. For so long she had grieved, lain down and mourned. But now it was time to hunt once more.


	6. Chapter 5

_Gotham City_

_August 16__th__, 03: 04 AM_

Tigress stalked her target with every bit of the prowess that her training and experience combined gave her. At one time, she had been better with a bow than a sword, but practice and learning on the fly had made a magnificent swords-woman of her.

She was confident of her skill, yet she was no fool. She knew that her target, if alerted to the danger, would be easily equal to her in a fight. She must deal a crippling blow before the fight even began, if she wanted to survive as well as succeed in her mission.

She laid one hand on the hilt of her sword, moving forward with forced slowness. She did not want her target to suddenly turn and attack her. Like the creature after which she was named, she must be patient, precise and, above all, relentless.

The night wind hissed over the rooftops, sending dust and mist swirling in its wake. The sound masked the unsheathing of her sword perfectly. Her eyes narrowed, and she measured and weighed every square inch of the target. She already knew his face and his movements, she had been close to him so often that she could have recognized him by his breathing alone.

Her fingers tightened around her blade, until the knuckles were white. A cold rage spread through her, fueling her advance and perhaps clouding her judgment. But it was too late to save her target.

The man in black swung to face her, surprise in his masked face, but her sword came down before he could react, driving deep into his left thigh. She had aimed for the tendon, but this wound would have to suffice to give her the advantage she needed in this particular fight.

Tigress flipped back, yanking her sword with her, putting distance between herself and the enemy. When she came to a halt, she was surprised and infuriated to find him on one knee, looking upon her with a sort of dull recognition. Empty eyes stared into empty eyes, and the flame within Tigress grew as she looked on her betrayer, destroyer of her heart, with the full fury of one who has lost that which they most love in this world.

Drawing her sword back, Tigress charged, a scream of vengeance on her lips. She watched as, seemingly in slow motion, her enemy rose to his feet and sidestepped just as she swung. The blade barely grazed his cheek as she passed him.

But there was no retaliation. There was no pain as Tigress passed but that which burned within her. She skidded to a stop, her sword at the ready to deflect a blow which had not been delivered.

"Fight me!," she cried, her throat constricted with the tears which she would not let fall.

Mist clung to her enemy, shadowing him like a ghost in fog. But he did not melt into the darkness as he should have. Neither did he answer her challenge. Instead he stood, those empty eyes staring into her soul, as if mocking her. Rage tore through her, casting out the sorrow inside. There was no room left in her for pity of the suffering creature before her. Only anger still burned cold in her belly.

Her enemy stood as a statue might, save for the blood which poured in seemingly endless quantities from the deep wound in his leg, trickling down to the ground and pooling on the concrete where he stood stiffly, as though unaware of her location though he saw her plainly in the clouded moonlight.

Tigress flew at him again, twisting and diving as she neared him to plant the sword in his other leg, to try and force him to his knees. If he would not fight her, then he would grovel before her. But again the shadow swept out of her way, and again her attack was not met. The sword scraped against the roof as Tigress turned to attack yet again.

This time her enemy turned towards her more fully, and her eyes fell upon the bright blue target in the middle of his chest, shaped like a hawk in flight. She swung at it, but her strength seemed to suddenly fail her, and her sword fell short of its mark even before the enemy moved to evade.

She shook her head, dizziness suddenly clutching at her, reminding her that she had not eaten or slept in days. The weakness of her own body was now at war with her. She turned to fight again. Again the shadow stood waiting for her, neither answering her attacks nor making his escape, both of which he could do with ease at any time.

"Why won't you fight me!?," She screamed more to the night than the man.

The eyes, those eyes, regarded her with a kind of cold sympathy, the only kind left to one whose eyes were so devoid of life as his were.

"Don't pretend your pain is equal to mine!. Fight me, damn you!,"

"I pretend nothing," at last he answered, his words slow and rough, as though he had not spoken to anyone for a long time.

"So fight me, then!,"

In his silence was the answer, and it enraged Tigress. She charged, her sword sweeping through the air in a wide arc, driving for home with every bit of force she could muster. A loud clang announced that, at least, her adversary was blocking. She was driven back.

But the ninja's favored weapon seemed to only be being used for defense. He had made no attempt to strike her as he defended, though he had the opportunity. Instead, he lowered his arm and again looked at her with eyes which mirrored her own.

"I will kill you!," Tigress snarled, her voice low "if it takes all night, I will kill you,"

"You may try," Nightwing answered softly "you have the right,"

* * *

Two things had prevented Nightwing from dodging the first blow. Recognition, and guilt. In recognizing Tigress, his mind dismissed her as nonthreatening, even though her weapon was drawn as she advanced. Guilt made him wish himself dead, and so he very nearly failed to move at all, which would have ended the conflict before it began.

And, he thought, perhaps that would have been better. For he felt little desire to even defend himself against the onslaught of the furious Tigress, let alone actually fight her. He deserved her wrath, every bit of it, that much he knew. If he could have killed himself, he probably would have. But the survival instinct was so deeply ingrained and practiced in him that he could not do it anymore than he could refuse to save an innocent life.

This same instinct had killed his friend, the first on the team to know his name, who he was and where he had come from, and how he'd gotten there. The one who knew him better than he knew himself, who had warned him against the action he had chosen to take- was dead because of it, if only because his own instinct insisted that he give his life to save the world.

While Nightwing did not hold himself responsible for the death itself, the events leading up to it were entirely his fault. It was as if he had had loaded a gun and aimed it at his friend's head before handing it off to someone else. It was for this reason that he could not bring himself to attack Tigress, his best friend's mate, the love of Wally West's life.

And so, he could not give Tigress that which she most wanted, an enemy she could fight. But he could give her the chance to kill him. She had the right. Because she was Wally's love, because she was in pain, because she was a member of the team. She had earned the right in blood to try.


	7. Chapter 6

_Watchtower_

_August 16__th__, 4:00 AM_

Robin sighed wearily. He'd spent the entire night trying, unsuccessfully, to hack into one of the Luthorcorp computers per Superman's request. Batman, who usually did this sort of thing for the League, was away on other business. And Nightwing, whose favorite activity was hacking...

Robin rubbed his neck, which had grown stiff from the position he'd been holding it in for the last three hours. He sat in front of the uncooperative League computer, who simply refused to link to any of the computers at Luthorcorp.

But he was even more weary of what he'd been going through the last month. The original Robin had only been in the shadow of Batman. He was forced to live beneath the shadow of Batman_ and_ Nightwing. Everyone looked at him either as Batman's sidekick, or as a leader like Nightwing was. He was tired of being asked to find solutions to problems he didn't even understand. He was tired of leading teams who looked up to him only because of the mask he wore, who expected nothing less than perfection from him because of who and what he was.

At least Nightwing had understood. Though he had pushed Robin beyond what he thought his limits were, Nightwing could read Robin like a book, and knew when he'd had enough.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that everyone looked at him, and assumed he was keeping secrets from them, because Batman and Nightwing both did. They questioned his motives with their mouths, and his actions with their eyes. Expectation and disappointment surrounded him, boxed him in on all sides, and it seemed there would be no relief until Nightwing returned. If Nightwing returned.

Even Aqualad seemed unaware of the position Robin was being put in.

He sighed again, returning his blurring vision to the screen in front of him.

"Come on, it's a simple enough request. Why can't you do it?," he asked the monitor, which glared blankly at him and gave no answer.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned back, wincing at the stiffness in his back. He was an athlete, like the Robin before him, and sitting still did not agree with him. It gave him too much time to think, and to be scared. In this line of work, there was no room for fear, that he'd learned early on. Keep moving, keep thinking about the objective, use your training, and do not be afraid.

Thoughtfully, he drummed his fingers on the desk. Then he tapped a few commands into the computer and waited, rolling his shoulders to relieve their tension while he did so.

He had no idea what time it was, or how long he'd been at it.

"You're still here?," the voice behind him after all the hours of silence startled Robin, but he checked himself mid-flinch and when he turned and stood, his face gave nothing away.

"I haven't gotten anywhere yet, I'm sorry,"

Superman looked down at him, and Robin found he couldn't meet the blue gaze of the Kryptonian. He looked instead back towards the monitor. A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he fought the urge to move away. Even the presence of others had become something of a torment to him.

"I didn't intend for you to drive yourself into the ground when I made the request, Robin. It can wait for Batman to return," the hand was gentle, the commanding voice was kind, but Robin refused to respond to either comfort.

"I can do this," he said, a bit shakily "I just... I just need more time,"

He knew inwardly that he wasn't talking about the Luthorcorp computer. He was talking about being what everyone expected him to be. But he was no more sure of being able to do what was necessary in that department than he was of his ability to hack the Luthorcorp computers from the Watchtower.

"You need sleep,"

"I'm fine," Robin shrugged off the hand and typed insistently at the keyboard.

He could feel Superman's eyes watching him, and hoped he wasn't trembling. He'd been motionless and sitting for so long that standing up had come as a bit of a shock to his system. His stiff muscles wanted to regain their former positions, made lazy and tight with hours of stillness.

He set his jaw and focused on the computer.

A whiteness flashed at the corner of his vision. Startled, he shook his head. This proved to be a mistake as the world suddenly swam, then skewed and darkened before him.

"Robin, are you alright?. Robin," the voice was distant as he crumpled to the floor, and the spinning world turned mercifully black.

* * *

"Tim?. Tim, can you hear me?,"

The intrusion to the blessed emptiness that was unconsciousness was irritating. Robin wanted to escape from it. Mentally, he turned away and shunned the voice, refusing to answer and come back to the land of the living. It was too hard there, there was all this pressure. At the moment, he wasn't sure what the pressures of living were, which was a mercy in itself, but he knew they existed and he didn't feel as though he could deal with them right at the moment.

A white flash cut through the blackness. Within the flash was a world of chaos, of flashing sword and flickering shadows in the night. Violence, anger, death, regret, all lay in that direction.

Although he was unaware of it, Robin's body spasmed at this point as his mind recoiled from what lay in that direction and turned in the other. A second white flash was stained with dripping blood, a silver blade of sorrow thrust through the heart of the undeserving. His body jerked again.

"Hold him down, gently. Tim, don't fight it, let it pass,"

"What's happening to him?," a second voice, lower-pitched than the first, intruded.

Robin just wanted to be alone. Left all alone. Without the responsibility, without the white flashes, without anything. He wanted it to be dark and silent once more. But that was apparently not on the list of options, as the feminine voice replied to the masculine

"I'm not sure. At first, I thought it was just exhaustion, but now I think something else may be going on," _no, no, nothing is going on_, he thought, _go away, just go away and everything will be fine._

The white flashes were insistent, bringing forth a flood of agony and betrayal that Robin didn't understand. It was not his own, that much he knew. He didn't want any part of it, and didn't understand why it seemed to want a part of him. The visions tore at him, as though trying to drag him with them to another place, one worse than the living world he was refusing to inhabit now.

"Whatever it is, I think it's in his mind,"

"Then maybe I can help," a third voice, also feminine, interjected.

"Well, alright, but be careful,"

A light suddenly pierced the darkness, and Robin shied away from it. It was not a blinding, burning light, not like the flashes. It was soft, like lamp light, but Robin wanted no part of it. In the center of the light appeared a familiar figure, caped and clad in red and black.

"Robin?," the green skin and red hair were familiar, just like the rest of her, but he wanted nothing to do with her or her light "Tim, answer me, please?,"

"Go away," he said miserably, ducking further into the darkness of his mind as she turned towards him "and take your visions with you,"

* * *

Megan had been reluctant to enter Robin's mind, but from the readings Black Canary's medical equipment was getting, she feared he was being destroyed from the inside. Upon entering his mind, her fears seemed to be confirmed, as a blanket of darkness covered everything. Robin was nothing more than a thin, thread-like voice in the black.

"What visions?," when he failed to answer, she added questioningly "Tim?,"

"Go away,"

A white flash cut across what would have been the sky had this been a world. Twisting in the lightning flash of insight was a vision of blood and pain, which took Megan a moment to recognize as being anything at all. Was this a memory?. It didn't look like one. It seemed to be an attack from an outside source.

"Robin, come into the light, please?. So I can see you,"

"I don't like the light," Robin told her flatly "people can see you, and ask you to do things,"

"What kind of things, Tim?,"

"Things I don't want to do anymore. I just want to stay here, in the dark, by myself. Go away,"

"You don't mean that,"

"I do," it sounded as though he did "now go away, and take the visions too. I don't want them. They hurt and don't make any sense. Take them away with you,"

"They're not mine to take," Megan explained gently "I'm not even sure they're yours,"

"They're not mine," Robin answered swiftly "I know these places, the things happening are strange and they're not me. I wish they would go away, back to who they belong to. I don't want them,"

"A lot of us have to put up with things we don't like," Megan said reasonably "and it hurts more to fight things out of our control than it does to put up with them,"

"I'm tired," Robin's voice was pathetically withdrawn "I don't want to put up with anything else,"

"Else?. What are you putting up with that you don't like, Tim?,"

"I don't know. It's out there, in the real world. I don't want to remember it. Too much pressure. There's fear out there, and it's alive,"

"I see. But in here, you're not afraid?,"

"Not if you'll go away,"

"You're afraid of me?," Megan was incredulous.

"I don't know," the small voice was tortured, and Megan realized she was talking to a shadow, as if most of Robin were somewhere else, this portion of him was merely taking messages.

_He's withdrawn so far, I don't know if I can even reach who he really is_, she thought.

"Maybe, if you come back with me, your friends can help you," she suggested.

"No!," the shadow of Robin said vehemently "I want nothing to do with you, take your light away,"

"But it's so dark in here, wouldn't you rather be in the light?,"

"No. No, the light reveals, the light exposes. It lays you flat in the open and cuts you. The dark is safer, that's where the secrets are," it was probably more or less the same answer any of the bats would give, be they Batman or one of his proteges.

"But you can't see in the dark,"

"Don't have to," Robin told her sensibly "I have five senses, sight is just one. Sight is the betrayer,"

The last word seemed to trigger not one flash, but a whole sky of them, all flickering with scattered images which Megan suspected were not Robin's memories but something else entirely.

His imagination, maybe?.

She screamed as one flash plummeted towards her. She forgot for a moment that it wasn't real, then remembered just in time to retreat into the real world, narrowly escaping the deadly strike.

"There's someone in there with him," she gasped as she fell into reality and was caught by Superboy "I don't know who, or what they want. But they're attacking him, they're going to destroy his mind if we don't stop them,"


	8. Chapter 7

A few minutes later, Megan was feeling better. She sat in a chair, holding a glass of water and taking absent sips from it as she tried to explain what she had found in Robin's head.

"Like I said, someone is in there with him. I sensed some kind of presence. I'm not sure what it was though. It didn't feel malignant, not exactly. More... lost?. Maybe lost," she nodded to herself "and it seemed to be in.. in some kind of pain,"

"But why Tim?," Kaldur asked "he has no telepathic abilities,"

"I don't think the thing in his head understands that. It's trying to contact him as if he were a telepath. Since he's not, his mind is perceiving it as an attack, and is trying to fight back. The only Tim I could talk to was a very small part of him,"

She didn't mention which part, the rest of them could probably guess. The only part of him that wouldn't be fighting back would be a little corner of his mind, not unlike the rest of theirs, which was reserved for fear. A frightened child in the mind of a superhero. They all had one, it was where their secret fears were, where they kept their guilt and regrets.

"Does he know what is happening to him?," Kaldur asked after a moment's thought.

"Some part of him may, but not the part I talked to. He just kept telling me to go away. He seemed to think that the visions were mine for some reason. I don't think he even recognized me,"

"Do you think if you went back in-,"

"No!," Superboy interrupted fiercely "didn't you see what he did to her?. You can't ask her to-,"

Megan's raised hand was enough to silence him.

"I don't know if I could reach the rest of him, or not. But not alone," she admitted "I need... some kind of tie, to remind me of what is real and what is not,"

"I will go with you," Kaldur volunteered at once.

As Superboy opened his mouth to protest, Kaldur shook his head.

"You are a valiant warrior," he told Superboy "but that is the very thing which Tim does not need in his head at this time,"

Superboy was not placated, but he did understand, and did not protest further.

* * *

A cold had crept into the darkness since Megan had last visited. Her own light did less to dispel the shadows than it had before, she could barely see Kaldur standing right beside her.

"Tim?. I've brought Kaldur with me. Will you talk to him?," Megan addressed the endless night.

"I thought you went away," the voice was broken, defeated, as if her return had taken the last of the fight from him.

"I did," Megan said "but I came back. Won't you talk to Kaldur?. Or me?,"

"I just want to be left alone. Why won't anybody leave me alone?,"

"Who won't leave you alone, Tim?,"

"Out there, nobody. Everybody wants something, expects something I can't give. I like it here, nobody's in here. It's better that way,"

"It is not better to stand alone," Kaldur disagreed "when your friends could stand beside you,"

"Friends?. Do I have those?,"

Kaldur and Megan exchanged glances. Robin was further down than Megan had even suspected the last time she was here. Despair coursed through her as memory of countless other failures crashed over her. If she couldn't save him, Tim would be just another in a long line of them. Kaldur touched her shoulder and looked at her encouragingly.

Megan nodded, and together they stepped forward into the darkness.

"Hey!," the voice was suddenly a bit stronger, sounding disgruntled "don't bring that light here. Take it away, make it go away,"

Consciously, if reluctantly, Megan allowed the light to dim, then go out entirely. The blackness was overwhelming. Megan felt as though she were in a void, yet she feared stumbling over something in Robin's mind, as she might in a house when the lights are all turned off.

"Is that better?," she asked, daring not step forward into the inky blackness.

"Yes. I like the dark. The dark is a good thing, to be used instead of feared,"

"Alright, so you're not scared of the dark?. What are you scared of then?,"

A white flash lit up the night, momentarily exposing them all in its colorless glare. For the first time, Megan was able to see the Robin to whom she spoke. He was sitting on the "ground", his knees drawn up and desperate eyes searching the sky as if for some kind of sign, perhaps of the rest of who he was, lost somewhere in the dark without him. Then the darkness closed once more.

"That," he whispered, in answer to her question "the betrayer in the night,"

The lightning flashed again, painting its message of pain across the sky. The flash held longer than before, and there was a single image, central to all the chaos. At first, Megan mistook it for the countenance of a ferocious tiger, but as the image solidified, she realized it was a human face behind a tiger mask. In a moment, the image was wiped away with a stain of blood. Then the flash was gone.

"Tim, what do you see up in the sky?. What have you seen?," Megan demanded quickly.

"It's not what I see," the weak voice of Tim explained sadly "it's what I feel. In my heart, in my head,"

"And what is that?," Kaldur pressed when Tim did not go on.

They were kneeling beside him now, though he seemed oblivious to them in the dark, his face upturned to read the sky, though it seemed that his eyes were closed.

"The wind," he began, his voice low as if he were in a trance "the mist, shadow and dust. The guilt and the shame, the rage and the pain. None of it's mine, I don't know why it's here,"

"Do you know who it does belong to?," Megan asked.

She sensed Robin nodded in the dark, and was surprised by how quickly her other senses had adjusted to the lack of light. Robin had been correct when he told her that there were four other senses, all of which were just as qualified to "see" as her eyes.

"You know who these... visions... belong to?," Kaldur wanted clarification.

"I do," Tim replied distantly, but did not supply further information.

It's like trying to interrogate the enemy, Megan thought. She was repulsed by the idea, though she could not deny in her own mind the accuracy of it. Tim seemed to recognize them only to the extent that he did not openly flee or attack them, but did not appear to regard them as friends, instead reacting to their presence as though they were mere strangers to him.

"Will you tell us who?," Megan asked cautiously.

Tim glanced at her in the dark, flinched, shaking his head in the wretched manner of one who is breaking under pressure, using the last bit of his will to resist, destroying himself in the process.

"Why not?," when he refused to answer her that, Megan began to make suggestions "is it because you're afraid of them?," no answer "you want to protect us?," still no answer "you want to protect them," though Tim said nothing, the answer was plain in the feel of him.

Whoever it was, Tim wanted to protect them. But from Megan and Kaldur?. Why?.

"But we are your friends," Kaldur protested, though carefully, as though afraid if he spoke to strongly the Tim to whom he was speaking would simply blow away "do you not recognize us?,"

"I don't know," was the lame response.

Megan found it a horrifying one, but Kaldur seemed to take it in stride, which steadied her.

"You do not know if we are your friends?. Or you do not know if you recognize us?," Kaldur asked.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!," Tim's voice was frantic.

He leaped to his feet, made as if to leave, then sat back down.

"Why isn't that enough?. Isn't anything enough?,"

Understanding seemed to dawn in Kaldur, though Megan was still somewhat at a loss.

"It is sufficient," Kaldur's voice was steady, level now that he seemed to have found his footing.

The cold which had seemed to creep up on them, slowly encircling them, began to recede. Kaldur had found a way to get through to this shadow of Tim Drake.

"Would it be alright with you, if we stayed?. We will not ask more of you," he promised.

Tim nodded, and the sky flashed overhead. He wasn't watching the sky now, instead he was looking at Kaldur uncertain, but somehow hopeful. Megan sat beside him in silence, content to let Kaldur and Tim make progress together with her as their link. She felt almost as though she were intruding upon some secret aspect of their lives by her presence, as if this were a matter for people of Earth somehow. But then she realized it was even more specific than that.

"So this person who you are in contact with," Kaldur said quietly "they are someone very close to you. Their spirit and yours are much alike,"

Megan's eyes widened and she looked for the next flash. Searching its blinding light, she saw bits and pieces of a place, a place she knew distantly. She had even been there. It was Gotham, she realized. Her mind raced, but she could think of no one there who would contact Tim in this manner.

Not Batman, nor Batgirl nor Nightwing or Artemis was possessed of telepathic capabilities. But it must be one of them, she realized. But how?. And why?.

"You fear losing yourself to them," Kaldur went on, unmindful of Megan's shocked mental responses "that others see you as something which you are not,"

"I can do it," Tim's shaky voice came "I just... I just need more time,"

"No," Kaldur's voice was hard now, harsh in the night's once more growing cold "you need not lose yourself in this darkness. These visions are for Robin, not for Nightwing,"

Megan saw the truth of this in the chaotic imagery which was painted across the night every few seconds, scattered and incoherent as it was. Now she knew what she was looking at, Megan could feel the presence of the other in each molten flicker.

"Of Nightwing, for Robin," Kaldur told him "you need not match them to understand them. You need not destroy yourself to understand the message,"

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head, and the night seemed to bend and flip and change around them, a swirling and inconsistent darkness. Heat welled up, chasing away the cold. The warmth, not of fire, was welcome to Megan after the unnatural and lifeless cold. Unbidden, Megan felt her light returning. The sky cracked with the white lightning, then broke in a torrent of raining images, which fell like glittering diamonds and scattered to the ground as shards of colored glass.

"What are you doing?," Megan couldn't help but ask.

Tim's eyes, open now, confident as they had not been before, looked at her with a warm recognition. This was Tim, not just a shadow of himself, but whole once more. Whatever Kaldur had done, it had worked, freeing Robin from the net that ensnared him.

"Answering," Robin told her calmly.

Across the mental sky, there whispered a message which Megan hardly understood.

_The bird has begun its flight._

In the real world, Robin's eyes opened.

"I have to go to Gotham City,"


	9. Chapter 8

_Gotham City_

_August 16__th__, 06:04 AM_

Robin had moved swiftly, but without seeming frantic, to the boom tube which took them to Gotham City. Once there, he moved with a confidence that seemed almost uncharacteristic. Though he acted quickly and without hesitation in the field, there was always an uneasiness about his actions that suggested a certain lack of confidence in himself and his decisions.

But here and now, he seemed in total control. Megan realized that this was most likely because he was home. Gotham City was where he had trained to become Robin, it was where he lived. The very air of Gotham, at least to him, was different from any other city. Everyone else called it smog, but he called it home.

The sky was dark, there were clouds rushing across the sky and blocking out the sun's feeble attempt to rise. The chill in the air was marked, and familiar, Megan realized. The cold of Tim's mind earlier had felt exactly like this. It was strange to think that cold felt like anything in particular, but it did.

The team was made up of Kaldur, Megan and Superboy. Megan had thought to bring Batgirl, but she was already present in Gotham and, when she responded to the call, said that she was rather busy at the moment so, if it wasn't urgent, they should call back later. Since they weren't sure, they said it probably wasn't, and let it go at that.

Robin seemed inexplicably relieved by this, though he said nothing to that effect.

"We have to hurry," Robin said urgently "or she will kill him,"

Megan had relayed much of what had happened in Tim's mind to Superboy. Both had gathered that Nightwing was the 'him', but it had yet to become clear to either of them who the 'she' in question might be. Megan now only dimly remembered that initial image of Tigress, it seemed to long ago and so insignificant to what had happened since.

_"She?,"_ Superboy asked, through Megan, as they each traveled in their preferred method and speed, with Robin leading, leaping cat-like from one rooftop to another, rarely using his grappler at all.

_"Who is the she of which you speak?,"_ Kaldur asked, not having seen the image of Tigress.

_"She who has earned the right,"_ Robin replied, as though that explained everything perfectly.

_"The right?,"_ Megan was aghast, shocked at the idea that anyone, or anything, had the 'right' to kill anyone, much less Nightwing.

She understood that sometimes killing was unavoidable in battle, and had once done much worse than kill, though she was now ashamed of it. But she did not view it as a right so much as a necessity and, even then, a tragic one to be avoided when at all possible.

None of them spoke for a time, as if they had the same thoughts as Megan. They did not share these thoughts, but were much aware of each other's probable feelings on the matter. At last, Kaldur asked the obvious question, avoiding the matter of 'right' entirely.

_"Who is she?,"_ he demanded.

This Robin did not answer, as if the question were so laughable to him that he couldn't reply with an honest answer without insulting his companions. Strange to think that Robin was human. Megan had spent much time around humans, and had realized that the heroes among them were of a different breed. And the bats were of yet another breed, creatures apart from the other heroes, as different as the heroes were from the villains.

They came to a halt on one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. Here Robin stopped, and pointed ahead for them to look. On a lower building, almost invisible in the near darkness of predawn, Nightwing knelt. A surge of joy swept through Megan at the sight of her comrade, whom she had not laid eyes on in some time. This was crushed by the realization that there was something wrong in the way Nightwing sat. Head bowed, arms spread to the side, his weapons drawn but lowered, he seemed to be waiting, defeated and waiting.

Superboy's quick eyes spotted a second figure standing in the shadow of an air conditioning unit. It took a moment of staring to recognize the slim and athletic form of Tigress, poised to strike.

"No!," Megan cried as Tigress raced forward, obviously intending to deliver a fatal blow.

Megan's eyes shone green and the world trembled as the team advanced. Tigress was halted in her tracks and her stunned eyes glared at Megan from behind her mask.

"Let me finish him!. Let me go!," She snarled, her voice unrecognizable in her state of savage anger.

Nightwing seemed oblivious to their presence, and had not moved, staring without flinching into Tigress' dark chocolate eyes, still waiting for her to kill him, though she was no longer granted that ability as Megan held her fast, a raging demon of her own giving her strength greater than usual.

"Why do you attack Nightwing?," Kaldur demanded, his voice fiercer than usual, lacking the collected calm for which he was famous.

Nightwing was his best friend and, in his mind, his leader, surpassing even his king in authority.

"You know why!," She spat "put me down,"

"Because of Wally?," Megan asked "that was not Nightwing's fault. You can't blame him for that,"

"And yet," Tigress growled "I do,"

"As he blames himself," Kaldur replied coldly "for, if he did not, do you believe he would have allowed you to wound him so?. Would he now kneel before you to be slaughtered?,"

Nightwing, for his part, said nothing in his defense. He ignored all but Tigress, suspended in the air by Megan and unable to tear her eyes from his, though she no doubt wanted to.

"He who trusted you from the start, even knowing your secrets," Kaldur went on "who bore the weight of his deception in order to protect us,"

"And what did that get us!. Wally is... is dead!," she cried.

Nightwing flinched, but did not turn away from her.

"A choice he made," Kaldur told her.

"He never should have had to," Tigress spat.

"Killing Nightwing will not change the past," Kaldur said "it will not bring anyone back,"

"What proof do you have that, had Nightwing acted differently, Wally would still be here?," Megan added her two cents to the mix.

A soft 'snapping' sound drew the group's attention. Robin, standing beside Nightwing, had drawn his staff. He now stood, eyes ablaze with a strange light, not unlike that of the lightning in his mind.

"You don't want justice, Tigress," he said slowly, deliberately "you want only someone to vent your grief on. Nightwing will not defend himself, that much is clear. Though he's been cut with your blade, you have no cuts or bruises to show for it. So I'll tell you what,"

He paused, stepping directly between Nightwing and Tigress to make his intention clear.

"You shall fight for your dead lover," he spoke calmly, coolly, and the others were almost entranced by this display of supreme confidence "and I will fight for the life of my brother,"

At this, Nightwing roused himself, but Robin looked over his shoulder. They exchanged a look, a telepathy of their own, and Nightwing subsided wordlessly and without protest.

"Put me down, Megan," Tigress snarled "I accept this,"

"We don't," Superboy protested loudly.

"She has the right," Robin said firmly "release her,"

They looked to Kaldur, who looked to Nightwing, who nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes blank and dazed as if he were already dead.

Tigress, dropped to earth, launched herself at once towards Robin, who dodged with the skill and precision which Nightwing had displayed back when it was he who was Robin. Megan came to rest on the rooftop beside Kaldur and Superboy. Nightwing had yet to move, watching with empty eyes as Robin and Tigress danced around one another, taking their turns at striking and dodging.

Had Tigress been in possession of a bow and arrow, it seemed likely that the match would have been over in seconds. Her experience was far greater than Robin's, she outclassed him in almost every way. But swords were newer to her, and her skills were a bit rusty from being out of the game for so long. And Robin, possessed of a kind of mad protective fury seemed to have gained the skills of Nightwing in a matter of moments.

He ducked and dodged and weaved, but touched little of his arsenal. This was apparently a battle of pure skill, not of mind games or deception. That put Robin at a distinct disadvantage. The bat's powers were almost entirely about technology, smoke and mirrors. For Tigress, the playing field was level, as she was always driven by a combination of determination and aggression, both of which she had supplied in abundance for this particular battle.

* * *

Three hours of playing hide and seek with Nightwing had done nothing to cool her temper, and now the fires were fanned into a roaring flame as Robin taunted her by standing between Tigress and that which she wanted. But he had been right when he said that she'd come here to fight.

Nightwing had been an infuriating disappointment. He had time and again failed to rise to her challenge. Well, perhaps if she took out Robin, Nightwing would rise with the same anger she felt. Robin was fresh, where she was tired, but that made little difference. Tigress had often kept fighting all day, though usually alongside the team.

Besides that, Robin wasn't even remotely in her class. She did have to remember that the fight had changed, however. For so long, she had been blindly rushing Nightwing, trying to get a reaction out of him. Those tactics would be fatal with Robin, as he painfully pointed out to her on her first advance by neatly dodging and then striking the back of her legs with his staff.

She had stumbled, rolled, and blocked an attack with her sword.

Their eyes locked, and Tigress found her fury mirrored in the masked face which stood over her. She did not understand what anger had possessed Robin, but she found it strangely pleasing to finally have an adversary whose fury was on par with hers, who was enraged enough to kill given the chance.

Suddenly, Robin twisted and vaulted on top of an air conditioning unit. There he crouched, peering down at her, head to the side in a startlingly bird-like way. Tigress narrowed her eyes.

"Stop playing, get down here and fight," she hissed.

She could easily go up and get him, but he could just as easily evade her and return to roof level, making the exertion for nothing. She wasn't about to let him get away with that. She had not lost all of her sensibilities. Robin was the gymnast. Swift and agile like a human lemur, there was no competing with him on his own turf. Tigress knew his intention was not escape, so there was no need to pursue him. She could wait, with all the patience of the cat after which she had named herself.

Robin did not answer her, looking at her as though she had just told him to turn into a grasshopper. She knew he would not come down while it was suicide to do so, she must give him enough room. And so she did, backing up and giving him some space.

Robin swept down faster than she expected, and struck out at her while she was off balance. She dodged, rolling and falling to one knee. Her sword sang as it struck against Robin's staff. She used her weight to push him backwards and rise to her feet at the same time.

A hop backwards put several feet between them, and they circled each other.

"Stop toying with me," Tigress spat "we know one another's strengths already,"

"I thought cats liked to play with their food," Robin returned.

Grimly, Tigress fell silent. Entering into verbal combat as well as physical was suicidal. Robin was trained in keeping up a steady stream of banter, it was one of his trademarks. He was a bird, vocal, high energy, more inclined to peck than really bite, and interested in self preservation above all. A sidekick, taught to be a distraction, but with the skills to be deadly as well.

She was underestimating him, she realized. Robin was every bit as good at what he did as Nightwing, better in the current circumstances. He had a reason to defend himself, it seemed that Nightwing didn't.

* * *

Robin was feeling the strain in his body. The night without sleep, the exhausting internal battle, and now this. He was not at his peak, and he knew it. Fortunately, it seemed that neither was Tigress. Unfortunately, she had so far refused to be goaded into mistakes. She had more experience than he, and was probably operating with more energy than he was. She was stronger in skill. He could not win this battle, of that he was certain.

And yet, his mind still whirled with a thousand thoughts, all driving him forward to continue the fight. He suspected that the others would attempt to intervene at any second, especially if either he or Tigress noticeably got the upper hand. Mentally, he had already laid claim to this fight. It was long past time for him to stop trying to be Nightwing, and start being himself.

This was something he understood. There was no team to jeopardize, no mission to fail, nobody asking him questions or depending on his answers. This was simple, straight forward. A clean fight to the finish, unless he could find another way to end it. Either way, nobody would be disappointed. No one could think less of him for defending Nightwing, or being defeated at the hands of Tigress. To fight for his adopted brother would be considered noble, and to die from the sword of a superior fighter was simply to be expected. That he could live with, or die with.

The back of his mind was whirring with some important thought which hadn't quite managed to acquire a form he could recognize. He was stalling, trying to survive until he could figure out what it was that was bothering him.

Then all at once, he was on his back, and the sword was coming down towards his head. Without thinking, he kicked out, grabbing a smoke pellet from his belt. His knee connected with Tigress' mid-section, and his staff narrowly missed her head as she anticipated the third part of Robin's defense. The smoke didn't help as much as it might have- this was Tigress, she who had fought alongside Nightwing and, later Batgirl and himself. She knew his tactics perhaps better than he knew hers.

But he put distance between them, unaware of the slash drawn across his chest or the blood that welled from the gash there. He didn't feel its heat, or its sting. He had seen something, and his mind was now working on just what it was he needed to do about it.

* * *

_"We have to do something,"_ Megan spoke through the telepathic link.

Tigress and Robin had been excluded from it, Nightwing was now included, but he didn't seem to appreciate that, saying nothing and failing to react to the words.

Both Tigress and Robin were breathing hard, and both had drawn blood. They were both holding steady, standing their ground, but the outcome seemed inevitable. Tigress would have to defeat Robin, that was the only thing that made sense. Nightwing would follow, unless they did something.

_"I am open to suggestions,"_ Kaldur was impassive _"but this battle is between them, they have both requested that it be such,"_

_"And we always let people commit suicide,"_ Superboy growled.

_"You believe Robin stands no chance?,"_ Kaldur seemed genuinely surprised.

_"You think he does?,"_ Superboy was equally nonplussed _"against Tigress?,"_

_"You underestimate him,"_ Kaldur said _"this is surprising, considering that you have fought side by side on many occasions. Have you seen his strengths as weaknesses because they are not the same as those of Nightwing?,"_

The comment had obviously hit home, for it seemed that Superboy had nothing else to say.

For a moment, it seemed it was all over, before they could decide what to do as Tigress leaped upon Robin when he was off his game for a split second. He recovered, but from that moment forward, his tactics changed. Something seemed to have snapped in him. He was suddenly more aggressive, lashing out more than deflecting blows, driving the battle instead of rolling with the punches as he normally did. He seemed abruptly as intent on the kill as Tigress had been all along.

Nightwing still seemed unmoved, as though he didn't care one way or the other.

It was a sudden thing. The whole fight had been fast, but the end of it came more abruptly than any but perhaps the combatants could have anticipated. As Robin turned from a blow Tigress had dodged, he seemingly left himself open. Tigress drove her sword forward, and it dived into the soft flesh just below Robin's ribcage. Instead of shoving her back with his staff, Robin dropped it, one hand grasping the blade, holding it where it was, the other snatching Tigress' knife from her belt. Tigress twisted the blade in Robin's gut, and it cut into his palm as well. But, even as she completed the motion, Robin struck his own apparently ineffectual blow against her, the knife slashing shallowly across the skin of her exposed throat, missing entirely her windpipe and jugular, though both were prime targets.

Still, Tigress staggered back as though the blow had been lethal. Robin fell to his knees, then slowly onto his side, blood oozing freely from the deep wound in his side. He coughed once, choking on blood, then lay still, his breath coming in shallow gasps, eyes wide and staring at Tigress.

Tigress meanwhile, staggered and stumbled, shaking her head and clutching at her neck, tearing at it. A brown slug-like thing fell suddenly from her and lay writhing on the ground. Tigress gazed at it uncertainly, as if she didn't know what it was, or even who _she_ was.

"Robin," Megan went immediately to her fallen comrade's side.

"You've killed him!," Superboy snarled, advancing on the bewildered looking Tigress.

"Enough," Nightwing's voice was barely a cracked whisper, but it halted Superboy at once as if it were a command from the Lord on High.

Tigress slowly sank to her knees, her hands covering her face. Nightwing rose and limped to her, kneeling down as she collapsed tearfully against him.

Overhead, thunder rolled, and lightning flashed in the sky. And suddenly the sky seemed to break open, a million rain drops falling like shattered glass, sparkling as they fell and carrying with them the story of their past.

Nightwing, holding the shuddering Tigress to him, looked to the sky.

"Enough," he repeated more strongly, this time apparently to himself.

**A/N: The author would like to let the readers know that the next chapter will be the epilogue and should be up tomorrow at the usual time, and that the prologue of the next story will be put up without delay.**


	10. Epilogue

_Watchtower_

_August 19__th__, 09:33 AM_

Tigress entered the room to find Nightwing dozing in a chair beside Robin's bed. Guilt twisted through Tigress, as she once more relived that moment when everything she had felt shattered. All the anger had melted as she realized the irrationality of it, and was replaced by a sort of pathetic gratitude to Robin for preventing her from accomplishing what she'd set out to do.

Nightwing was guilt-wracked enough, without her piling on more. That much was evidenced by his refusal to even fight her. Even now, his sleep seemed troubled, though Tigress had entered quietly enough not to wake him, he still shifted and turned his head, whispering something she couldn't hear.

Tigress moved to lean on the wall, feeling suddenly weak. It had taken this long to convince herself to even come and see Robin. Covered in blankets as he was, the horrible side wound she had inflicted was hidden, and it was just as well. Even as it was, bitter tears came to her eyes, as they had the moment she was set free. Her eyes turned to Nightwing, who she had tried to kill such a short time ago. And what had he done right after she stabbed his brother?. He had come to her side, held her, comforted her.

She was not accustomed to accepting help, or to needing it. But she had then and, as confirmation of the leader inside him, Nightwing had provided that without hesitation or judgment.

As though suddenly aware of her eyes on him, Nightwing woke with a jerk. He blinked at her, then averted his gaze. The pain in his eyes _was_ equal to hers, she knew. She had loved Wally as only a soul mate can love its other half. But she was not the only one. Wally had been Nightwing's best friend, and sometimes his only supporter. They had shared perhaps a stronger and more mysterious bond than even the bats shared with one another. Their affection and trust had run deep since before Tigress had ever even met either of them.

It had been Kaldur, Nightwing and Kid Flash who started this... this still unnamed thing they so often called simply "the team", because no single or string of words had ever managed to encompass exactly what their feelings for it were. It was nothing like the Justice League, yet it was somehow a part of that greater whole. It was the same mission, the same motivations, the same methods. And yet it was separate, wholly apart, its own entity, with its own life somehow.

"It wasn't your fault," Nightwing said quietly, glancing briefly at the unconscious Robin.

"Nor yours,"

Nightwing looked up sharply, and saw clearly that Tigress did not mean Robin. She was speaking of Wally, whom they had both loved deeply in their own, very different ways. One as a mate, the other as a brother and comrade.

He looked away again, shifting uncomfortably, perhaps because of the leg wound, but more likely because of the compassionate look in Tigress' eyes. Nightwing was only too ready to put the entire weight of the world on his shoulders, as any leader would. Years ago, Tigress now recalled, during a training exercise gone wrong, he had proven that, though he loved his team and would die for them, he was also willing to let them all die, to sacrifice every one of them for the mission. That was the true proof of his leadership qualities. He would die for them, kill for them, just as they all would for each other. But he could also accept that he must sacrifice them in order to do that which they had pledged their lives to do. To save the world.

"How do you think he knew?," Tigress touched the bandage on her neck briefly.

"I'm more surprised that I didn't see it," Nightwing replied "we've seen those slugs before. They attach themselves to someone, feeding off their grief, replacing it with anger. Often misdirected,"

"As it was in this case," Tigress stated firmly.

Nightwing didn't look as though he agreed, but did not attempt to argue with her. For him, there seemed no right answer. He did not agree, but it did not seem right to fight her. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

"They sit on your throat," Nightwing said "and there's a visible lump. All you have to do is cut it. Any idea where you got it?,"

"Not really. As you might imagine, the last two months have been a bit of a blur for me. I don't even know where I've been most of the time,"

"What will you do now?," Nightwing asked hollowly.

"I think it's time I came home," Tigress said "this is where I belong. And where you belong too,"

"I...," Nightwing trailed off, shaking his head, unable to finish the thought.

Looking at him, it seemed to Tigress that he was broken, shattered, just waiting for a harsh wind to blow him away, feeling it would be a relief when that happened. He was not the person she remembered, so strong and confident, ready for anything. He was gaunt and his eyes were haunted. If the time undercover had been hard for her and Kaldur, it had proven to be Hell for Nightwing. He had suffered for them, as well as suffering the accusations and fury of his team. Going on when, time after time, his plan which had seemed so simple prepared to shake itself apart. And then for it all to be finally over, only to have the final crushing blow dealt with the death of Kid Flash...

"Do you think it's fair to Kaldur?," Tigress asked suddenly "putting him in this position?. Not long ago, they all thought he was the enemy. Megan fried his brain thinking he'd killed me. Sure they know he was undercover, now. But can you imagine what it's done to them?,"

"They do what they have to. Adapting to change is what they do best," Nightwing told her.

"What about Kaldur?. Don't you think he's tired too?. He never wanted to be leader, but he agreed to it, until you were ready. If you've proven anything in the last two years, it's that you are ready,"

"I nearly destroyed this team. I was arrogant and overconfident," Nightwing said "I was wrong, and I betrayed you all in lying and asking more of you than I ever should have. I can't stay,"

He rose and limped towards the doorway. Kaldur appeared and blocked the way before he got there.

"And what of Robin?," he'd obviously heard at least part of the conversation "it is difficult for him. In your absence, the others see you in him, and expect more of him than he can possibly give,"

"He's proven how much he can give," Nightwing whispered, moving to brush past Kaldur.

A soft voice, one achingly familiar to him, stopped Nightwing in his tracks.

"Please stay," Robin pleaded "I'm tired, brother,"

Nightwing turned, and their eyes met, eyes so alike, yet so very different. Within both was the darkness of the night, the terrible burden of being creatures born of tragedy and raised by Batman. Unlike one another in personality, yet bound not by blood, but by something still stronger. Something more than training, more than shared experience. The very fabric of their being forged in flame to make them the children of Batman, standing alone among millions, for they were something different, not in species or kind, but within their spirits themselves.

Nightwing bent his head in assent.

For his brother, he would stay.

* * *

_Watchtower_

_August 22__nd__, 11:50 AM_

"I've got just one question," Superboy said.

The senior members of the team, plus Robin, were gathered around in one of the seating areas, strewn about on couches and chairs in various positions of repose. Robin was half lying down on his side in one chair, to accommodate his healing side. Nightwing was leaning back in another chair, one leg on a footstool. The others had chosen various poses of comfort.

"About what?," Nightwing asked nonchalantly, though his eyes suggested he knew the question, as well as the answer to it.

"How did you know Nightwing and Tigress were fighting?,"

The question, fired at Robin, seemed to have gone over his head, for he did not answer at first. He sat looking deeply contemplative, and at first seemed disinclined to answer. Superboy looked vaguely irritated, but didn't ask again.

At long last, Robin answered.

"Kaldur, when you said that the vision was from Nightwing, you were wrong," Robin said quietly, as if ashamed to have to contradict such a respected member of the team.

Kaldur took the information quietly, but his eyes were suddenly alive with interest.

"Nightwing didn't want my help," he continued, his voice growing stronger as he went on "and Tigress certainly didn't want me to interfere,"

"True, but how could you know that?," Tigress wanted to know.

"Because the one who sent the visions knew, and told me. About the fight, about what was going on in both your heads. It was... too much, too fast... at first,"

"Who was it?," Superboy pressed again.

Robin seemed to withdraw into himself, as if the information was somehow sacred and should remain secret. As if, by giving voice to it, he would destroy it and it would be as though nothing had ever happened. As if it would turn back time to that moment when everything had changed, so that Robin would never know of the fight, and Nightwing would not be spared.

"The same one who tried to get my attention and couldn't," Nightwing responded, subtly giving Robin more time to collect himself.

Superboy turned impatient eyes on Nightwing, who gazed back steadily but gave nothing further. The mysterious nature of the bats infuriated Superboy, their obsession with secrets had nearly killed Megan, not to mention put countless others in jeopardy.

Once, Nightwing would have flinched away from Superboy's look. But for the sake of Robin, for Kaldur and Tigress and, most of all, Wally, he did not now. He gazed steadily at his old friend and occasional adversary, giving nothing away in his expression, and not averting his eyes. At last, it was Superboy who looked away.

Superboy was inwardly glad that he could not hold Nightwing's gaze. It meant the leader he had come to begrudgingly respect was beginning to come back. It would take time, and there would always be more upheaval around the corner. But with Nightwing at the helm, the team could handle anything.

"So who was it?," Tigress asked, returning focus to Robin, who appeared to have gathered himself.

"The one who cared most for you both, and could not bear to see you destroy one another," he replied finally, quietly "the one who loved you more than anything in the world. Wally West,"

Robin could not explain the how to them, and was greatly relieved when none of them asked, each having their own private belief. It might be a ghost, perhaps an echo, or maybe Wally had not been destroyed, but rather become a kind of energy. In any case, it was clear he was still with them, doing everything he could for the team in its time of need.

So few could have saved them, Robin reflected. So few had the right to interfere with what Nightwing and Tigress did. Who else besides Wally could have stood between them?. Who else could grant them both redemption?. Who else had the right?.

* * *

**A/N: The author would now like to point out that the slug creatures were a work of their imagination and have no basis in reality, even the comic book kind.**

**Additionally the author would like to admit that part 1 of Re is actually the combination of three unrelated stories and wasn't written with a part 2 in mind. That didn't stop the next five parts of the story from being written.**

**The author would also like to thank all those that took the time to read the story (and those who were excited enough to write reviews as well) and sincerely hopes you had as much fun reading as the author had writing the story. Thank you kindly and goodnight, everybody.**


End file.
